Kiss Me, I'm Irish
by GreysAddictJ
Summary: St. Patrick's Day Fluff.  Callie hates St. Patrick's Day.  Arizona makes it better.  Stuff happens.  Sorry this is up post-holiday – got wrapped up in all the Grey's Benefit Concert stuff this past weekend.


Title: Kiss Me, I'm Irish

Author: GreysAddictJ

Pairing: Callie/Arizona

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. No infringement intended. Also, I don't use a beta, so all mistakes are mine.

Summary: St. Patrick's Day Fluff. Callie hates St. Patrick's Day. Arizona makes it better. Stuff happens. Sorry this is up post-holiday – got wrapped up in all the Grey's Benefit Concert stuff this past weekend.

* * *

><p>The iPhone alarm cut through her dreams, jolting Callie out a deep sleep. Instead of the usual ringtone, she was greeted by some fast-paced, high pitched Irish jig. Being woken far too early was already torture enough. To be woken by something that would only appear on a leprechaun's iPod made things ten times worse.<p>

She opened one eyelid to see her wife sit up, a gleeful look on her face.

"Happy St. Patrick's Day, Calliope." Arizona said, her early morning perkiness adding to Callie's already grumpy mood. Arizona leaned over, placed a quick kiss on Callie's newly forming scowl, and rolled out of bed.

"Not sure what's so happy about it." Callie grumbled, shoving her head under the covers in a vain attempt to block out the morning. As if on cue, Sofia's cries cut through the silence over the baby monitor. Callie shifted to get up, but Arizona stopped her.

"I've got it. You rest for a few more minutes." Arizona knew that her wife would need the rest. She loved the holiday, as it was a fun chance to celebrate her Irish roots. However, she knew that it just meant a long, exhausting day for Callie.

Callie hated St. Patrick's Day. She'd undoubtedly have an incredibly busy day. As much as she loved the thrill of cool and unusual ortho surgeries, Callie had learned to loathe this particular holiday. Full of stupid drunks making even stupider decisions, her day would be inundated with broken bones caused by every kind of stupidity under the sun. And chances were, her patients would be drunk, obnoxious, and puking all over the place. Not a recipe for fun.

After hitting snooze for a few more minutes, Callie dragged herself out of bed and began to get ready. As she came into the living room, she saw her world, her perfection. Her wife stood there holding their daughter, quietly talking as Sofia watched her with rapt attention and a grin on her face. Callie couldn't help but beam. Even if they were completely bedecked in green attire, with Sofia wearing a headband with bobbing Shamrock antennae, Callie couldn't stop a small smile from spreading across her lips.

Callie's happiness was short lived, however, as the incessant beeping of her pager invaded the scene. She groaned and grabbed her stuff. She took a moment to kiss Arizona and Sofia and headed out the door. So much for breakfast – she had a feeling she'd be running on a diet of caffeine and adrenaline today.

Right off the bat, Callie's day was one she wanted to forget. As she walked into the ER to answer her page, she had to wade through a sea of green rabble. It wasn't even 8am. Seriously? She shook her head. These people clearly got an early start.

As she entered the treatment room where her patient was, she inwardly groaned. Her patient was a middle aged man wearing a kilt. Unfortunately, he had decided to go commando and had also not bothered to hide what he had underneath his kilt.

The offense didn't end there however. Callie noticed that the man's man hand appeared to have been mangled in some sort of drunken accident. "If you'll just let me take a quick look here, Mr. Sullivan." Callie said as she reached for his chart, giving it a read-through.

However, Callie should have known better than to let her guard down. As she turned to grab a pair of latex gloves, she yelped as she felt a hard pinch on her rear.

"Mr. Sullivan!" She scolded, too shocked to say much else.

"What? You weren't wearing green, doc. Only fair I get to pinch you." He winked at her, as if that would excuse his behavior.

Callie was quick to cut him down. "You'd better keep your good hand to yourself or you'll find yourself with two casts instead of one."

"Alright, alright. " He said in resignation. "But you can't stop a man from looking." He said as he blatantly ogled her breasts.

Callie sighed heavily and steeled herself – this day was going to be one for the records books. And if her first patient of the day was anything to go by, it wasn't going to be fun at all.

After examining Mr. Sullivan's films, Callie came back to set the bones in his hand, thankful that he wouldn't require surgery. The less time spent with this lout, the better. However, she nearly fell over with shock as she re-entered the room. The man had lifted up his kilt even further and was blatantly fondling himself. "I figured that you might not be in a festive mood because you're not Irish. Let me put some Irish in you." He said, a pervy twinkle in his eyes.

"Cover yourself right now or I'm calling security." Callie said disgustedly. The man ruefully replaced his kilt. Callie headed to the hallway and found a nurse to assist. Any extra bodies in the room would be welcome.

"Okay, Mr. Sullivan. This might hurt a bit." She treated her patient with as much compassion as she could muster, though she might've been a little lighter on the pain meds than usual. But hey, he was already self-medicated from the booze, right? She tried not to take too much pleasure in his yelps of pain as she set his bones. Satisfied, she left the room and sighed, fearing what the rest of the day would bring.

* * *

><p>Callie's day was day was a whirlwind of drunken messes. She had finally managed to find a few minutes to rest in an on call room. She lay in the dark, an arm thrown over her eyes when she heard the door open and close. "I'm busy. I don't care it's the freaking Lucky Charms mascot. Unless they're dying, they can wait 5 minutes."<p>

Callie immediately felt the tension in her body flood away as she picked up a hint of her wife's perfume. She opened her eyes and saw Arizona cross the room and sit on the edge of the bed, a cup from McDonald's in her hand.

"Hey." Arizona said softly, her dimples just barely peeking out from her cheeks. "I thought this might cheer you up." She said as she handed Callie the drink.

Callie took it and examined it. It was a Shamrock Shake. It was the only thing good about St. Patrick's Day – as she'd said to her wife in passing a year or two ago. She couldn't help but smile at the fact that Arizona remembered. "You're amazing." She said before sitting up and taking a sip.

"I know." Arizona said. She bent over and gave Callie a lingering kiss. "But now I've got to get back to my patients. Believe it or not, today's been busy in peds as well."

"I love you." Callie said as her wife turned to go.

Arizona grinned at her and Callie nearly melted. "I love you too, Calliope. I'll see you later."

It never ceased to amaze Callie how just a minute or two with that woman could turn her whole mood upside down. Her heart still fluttered every time she was around her. She wasn't quite sure how she'd gotten so lucky, but she was thankful every day for it.

* * *

><p>Callie's enjoyment of her mid-day surprised was short-lived. Not two minutes after Arizona left, her pager went off again. Exasperated, she took a few hurried sips of her shake and headed back to the pit.<p>

She could hear her patient before she saw her. Obviously drunk, some girl was shrieking at the top of her lungs. Shouting crap like "Happy St. Patrick's Day. Wooooo!" in a very slurred, very high pitched voice.

Rolling her eyes, Callie pulled back the curtain to find a girl dressed in the skimpiest green outfit she'd ever seen. Her chest was spilling out of a neon green tube top and her barely there shorts didn't even cover her whole butt.

Callie muttered to Yang, who was nearby. "I wasn't aware that being a skank was a traditional Irish practice." Yang made a snarky remark in return as she passed by, snorting with laughter at what Callie had to deal with. St. Patrick's Day didn't yield that many additional cardio cases, so Yang had a light day.

Callie was halfway through treaty McSlutty when the girl stopped mid-scream, leaned over, and threw up green vomit all over Callie. Clearly the luck of the Irish was not with her today.

* * *

><p>Callie was dragging. After showering off the green beer-induced puke and changing, she'd been running non-stop from one patient to the next. Her Shamrock shake, the only bright spot in her day, had long since melted. She had just been paged once again. She was praying that this last patient wasn't surgical. If they weren't, she could go home, as Dr. Davis, her fellow ortho attending, was scheduled to take over in about 30 minutes. All she could think about was a quiet night at home, with no Irish music, no drunks, and absolutely no green.<p>

Callie entered the room and was immediately taken aback. In the bed sat a gorgeous African-American drag queen who had to be at least 7 feet tall. She (or he?) was dressed in a tiny Irish dancer's outfit and matching green heels that had to be at least 4 or 5 inches in height.

Her patient had twisted her ankle badly. "How did you hurt yourself , Mr. . . uh Ms . . . Jackson?" Callie asked.

"I was doing the Irish jig, of course." When Callie raised a questioning eyebrow, her patient continued. "Honey, you should try doing that dance in those heels."

"Trust me, I have no intention of trying." Callie said as she examined her patient's ankle.

"I had to." Her patient replied.

"And why is that?" Callie asked, instantly regretting her decision to engage her patient in conversation.

"Well, because I'm a leprechaun." Ms. Jackson replied.

"Just because you dress up and have a few drinks doesn't mean you should put your well being at risk. Leprechaun or not, in the future, I suggest you only dance in sensible shoes." Callie said.

"You don't believe me, do you?" Ms. Jackson continued.

"Believe what?" Callie asked.

"That I'm a leprechaun. I'm not drunk. Test me. I am simply celebrating my heritage. And protecting my pot of gold of course." She said.

"Right." Callie said. She turned and looked at the x-rays that had been ordered. "So I don't think you'll need surgery, but you are going to be in a cast for 6 to 8 weeks. What color would you like the cast? Let me guess. Green?"

"Oh no, honey. Green clashes with too many things and I have to look fabulous. Make it black." Ms. Jackson replied.

Callie nodded and went to fetch the cast materials and told a nurse to order a psych consult. After quickly setting her patient's ankle and applying the cast, she headed home. All she could think about was a warm bath and a good night's sleep. She was thankful that Mark had Sofia tonight. As much as she loved her daughter, not having to get up in the middle of the night would be a welcome relief.

* * *

><p>As Callie entered the apartment, she looked around for her wife. "Arizona? Are you home? Sorry I'm a bit late. Got caught up fixing the ankle of a drag queen leprechaun who had an Irish jig mishap. Yes, I'm serious. This day has been . . ."<p>

Callie's words were cut off as she was pinned to the wall. Before she knew what was happening, her stealthy attacker had pressed her body against Callie's and had pinched her ass in a teasing way. A much more welcome pinch than the one she'd received earlier.

Callie grinned as she roped her arms around her wife, who was scantily clad in some all green lingerie that hugged her curves in all the right places.

Arizona grinned, her dimples on full display, and gazed into Callie's eyes. "Calliope?" Arizona said.

"Yes?" Callie said hoarsely, all thoughts of sleep and rest flying from her brain.

"Kiss me, I'm Irish." Arizona husked in a deep, sultry tone, her breath tickling Callie's face.

Callie grinned as she pulled her wife even closer. Maybe St. Paddy's Day wasn't so bad after all.


End file.
